Plague and Corruption
by Aphrael1742
Summary: Green squishy things fighting black shadowy things. What else is there to summarize?
1. Foreword

Well, I could honestly say that I would never have thought that I would write another story. Not because my previous one is still in progress, mind. Getting sidetracked like that is something of a speciality of mine. No, what I am surprised at is that I actually wrote another fan fiction.

Allow me a moment to let that information sink in…

Yes, I wrote another story. Remember my personal feelings about them? Are you as surprised as I am? I guess it is about the writing, or typing, in this case, that matters, and not what I am writing. Well, can't have everything.

No, 'NOBLE and the Courier' is not dead, merely… set aside. That story has set events, and I guess I wanted something that would provide more freedom for the construction of the plot.

Anyway, due to the nature of the plot, the story might go on for a few chapters, or slightly more than a few chapters. No promises.

Again, please point out spelling or grammatical errors, or plot holes, or problems with strategies, or… Nothing else springs to mind. Maybe you could think of something. Also, reviews would be appreciated.

Anyway, on with the story.


	2. How Wars Begin

**Author's Note: **Well, the first chapter. Pretty self explanatory. Don't forget to review. Really. I wrote this, you can write something as well.

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The place was diseased. The air, thick with the spores of a living plague, was diseased. The floor and walls, covered in a wet, sticky flesh like substance, was most definitely diseased. The inhabitants of the place, with splotchy green flesh and strange growths, could not have been too healthy either. Evidence of that affliction, however, could not have been more apparent in the colouring. The whole place was a disgusting shade, an unhealthy greenish brown that was quite possibly more harmful to any living thing that still retained sight than the air or the various surfaces.

The place would have been described as toxic, but the entity that dwelt there would have vehemently and forcefully disagreed. After some unpleasantness, the perpetrator of such a horrid accusation would have been persuaded to change his opinion on the matter. This was not to say that the entity, for the word is perhaps the most fitting, did not agree with the description. The entity, quite to the contrary, wholly agreed with it; but, as with all things that had a home, it loved its habitat, and would not see it so abused. At least, that was what the entity told himself. In reality, however, the certain unpleasantness would have been simply a way of expanding, a method of reproduction, for lack of a better word. The entity generally preferred the term 'curing the universe of misfortunes like diseases, death, power struggles and cute fluffy things'. When he was feeling melodramatic, however, he called it 'turning the misguided heathen to the true path', and 'sheltering those poor orphans' when he was feeling charitable. Now and then, when he felt vengeful or mildly irritated, it became 'adding to the ranks of my army of doom', which was probably not too far off the truth. Most of the time, however, the entity adopted an impassive attitude, and so the process is usually referred to as 'unfortunate for you, good for me'.

And now the entity was restless. 'Peckish' would have been a more accurate word, but the entity disliked that term, not because it had a childish connotation, but because it sounded like something a cute fluffy thing might do. And so the entity twined its many tentacles together, waiting for something to happen. The ship it was in hurtled through the void, and he waited. Hibernation was useless. Candidly, it has to be admitted that hibernation was indeed useful. The entity was simply having trouble entering hibernation. Taking the blame for anything, however, was not one of his strongest points, and so he conveniently decided to deem it useless. One could, however, only twine one's tentacles around for just so long, and the entity soon grew bored again. Not wanting to shake bits off his ship again by roaring in frustration, the entity resorted to counting his children in an attempt to enter hibernation.

The Crawler was pleased. There was something almost intoxicating about conquering Samarkand that left a fuzzy feeling in his very being and an urge to shout in triumph at the very top of his voice. Instead he concentrated on the spreading of shadows across the land. The Master would be pleased, very pleased indeed. This place gave him a staging area for the subjugation of the rest of this world.

The Crawler gazed out over the land he had conquered. He liked what he saw. The land was beautiful, he had to admit. The ground was covered in black pools, stretching across the land. Already, inky pillars were starting to rise from the darkness, indication that more of his children could be brought forth from the Void. But there was one portion that annoyed him, one lone patch as yet untouched by the darkness. He stared at it in irritation. It really ruined his view and the beauty of the place. Thinking about it threatened to ruin his day, too. But it was always there, like some pest that refused to go away, stubbornly clinging on, even after it had overstayed its welcome. If he had a choice, the Crawler would have already claimed the place. _Someone_, however, had insisted on seeing how long the inhabitants would last before they broke. The Crawler had disapproved. There was, however, not much he could do to change things.

And so the Crawler settled down, and planned the next phase of his attack. But where should it be? Retaking Aurora would be entertaining. Finally conquering Albion would be a greater satisfaction. Or perhaps he should go someplace else. North, maybe. The climate and lack of light would be perfect for the raising of more children. The Crawler began to make plans for the attack. But first, he needed a little rest.

A rude crash intruded on his moment of peace. The Crawler growled in anger. Could he not do _anything _in this Void forsaken world without anything interrupting him? Annoyed, the Crawler looked toward the origin of the sound. What he saw angered him. Who was throwing green things onto his lovely darkness? More of those things fell out of the sky, and the Crawler roared in anger. They would pay for this unforgivable crime, oh how they would all pay. None of his children were close enough, and so he sent a group out to reclaim the darkness and purge the gross colour that was clashing with his lovely carpeting.

To say that the entity was annoyed would have been a severe overstatement. He had almost entered hibernation, but had yawned. A little too loudly, it had seemed. The whole ship had shook, and as yet unsecured pieces had fallen off it. Unfortunately, those pieces had not simply been random pieces of growth that made up the walls. Those pieces had some of his soldiers in them, soldiers that were just beginning to become combat ready. As an individual, those soldiers would not concern him, as they could be easily replaced. They are, however, effectively part of him, and the entity did not like leaving pieces of himself all over the place. And so he tracked their progress, across empty space, to the surface of a planet, a surface that was black. No other colour, just solid black. The pieces smashed against the solid darkness, and he woke the stray pieces of himself. The entity stationed the ship above the planet, and began the process of figuring out a way of sending them back to the ship. He readied a drop ship that was in front of a convenient gap in the outer walls. Before he could launch it, however, he detected a movement, and looked through one of the soldier's senses. Rising from the darkness near one of the black pillars were several shadowy forms, as black as the darkness from which they had risen, with glowing red eyes and carrying swords. The only indication of the presence of one of the shadowy figures was the pair of eyes. His soldiers, however, sensed rather than saw his enemies, and so they were not as disadvantaged as they might have been. Without any indication of their intention, they rushed at his soldiers, and struck out with their swords. The soldiers attempted to fight back, but more kept rising out of the darkness near the pillars to join the skirmish. That decidedly made things difficult for his soldiers. Then the link between him and the little piece of him was abruptly broken as the last of the soldiers were killed. That, the entity felt, was going a little too far. The fight itself was unprovoked, and killing all his soldiers, which got there by accident in the first place, was just pushing things a little. The entity roared in anger and frustration, and his many tentacles trashed about, flailing at the air. He would show those shadows, the entity swore. He would show them why it would not be wise to pick a fight with him. He would make them learn to not kill his soldiers. He would show them all.

The entity roared in a voice that could probably be heard on the surface on the planet. The entity certainly hoped so. And in that single roar was pure, undiluted rage, perfected over a thousand lifetimes. War has begun, and he would show them all, and they would know his power, one like they have not experienced before. They would know the power of the Flood.

* * *

**Gasp.** It is the Flood. Yeah, so surprised. It's diseased, has tentacles and it's from Halo. What else could it be?

Anyway, no action here. Don't want to start thrashing up the set now.

On that note, action sequences are not my specialty. Definitely not. The really short battles might just get repetitive, I will say this right now.

Yes, I set aside a perfectly good story about an epic battle with heroic characters for one about a petty squabble with disgusting armies. Go figure.

I do, however, have one request. I am really bad with computers. Really really bad. So, anyone who is willing to help me with a little thing, please PM me, and we will sort something out. The favor is this. I need someone to draw cover pages for these stories. Yeah... Don't worry. Take your time to decide whether you will regret helping me. I will wait. I'm patient.


End file.
